


detox

by vinumxvitae



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angsty but not really, M/M, don't mind him he's just tormenting mateo, v is a flirtatious shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinumxvitae/pseuds/vinumxvitae
Summary: V is an unapologetic jackass; Mateo daydreams about shutting him up, but the only way to take him is like a shot of cheap whiskey.
Relationships: Mateo Thiago/Male V
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	detox

Mateo bites his tongue. He pours a glass of tequila and slides it across the counter, ignoring red-ringed eyes that count every open button on his shirt. V's an unapologetic jackass, but not a reckless one; he knows exactly how far he can push the envelope.

His constant chatter is as infuriating as it is provocative. Mateo copes by cutting his cocktails with harder and harder liquor, letting V dissolve into tequila-addled stupors and senseless babble on his bar stool.

It works a couple times. Mateo tells himself that he can't risk V getting attached, just like he'd shun anyone else's advances. V isn't special and bartenders aren't joytoys.

He wonders if V is really making advances or if he's just naturally flirtatious. Both options seem in-character, and Mateo tries not to overthink it, but V catches on and calls him on his bluff.

_Say what you wanna say, why don't you?_

V's words slur together and Mateo almost asks him to repeat himself. At first, he's shocked that V's been picking up on anything beyond a change in the brand of salt he uses to rim the margarita glasses. V stays perched on his bar stool until the club closes, determined, picking and prodding until the only thing Mateo can think about is the best way to shut him up.

He knows how he _wants_ to shut him up. He daydreams too often about grabbing fistfuls of black and pink hair, about bending him over the back of the bar and railing him until he's so senseless that he'll need the alcohol just to sober up. He imagines V tastes like middle-shelf tequila and yesterday's blunts, but he craves it.

Mateo gives him a once-in-a-lifetime chance, sliding the key to his apartment across the bar instead of another drink. He promises himself that he'll never let it happen again, that once he finally gets V out of his system he'll never let another customer rattle him like this, but he knows he's lying to himself. He curses his own weak will when he finds V waiting in his kitchen. He kicks himself when he lets a _merc_ kiss him in his own bed.

V’s stupid little rat-tail haircut feels softer than he ever conjured in his wildest dreams. It feels like feathered satin and smells like cheap product, distracting him when he finally twists his fingers into it. That obnoxious, unceasing chatter descends into nonsense, even though V’s been sober for hours.

Mateo can’t decide if he would rather hear the chitchat or V’s stifled whines, and the harder he pushes his face into the pillows, the more he regrets his decisions. The little crack in V’s voice haunts him. What would have been conversational silence between them is filled with sighs and moans instead, smoothed over by the clatter of Mateo’s necklaces against his own chest and the obscene sounds that leave his mouth.

He isn’t shocked when V is gone long before he wakes. No texts, no notes. He doesn’t expect to see him again and prepares himself for a tolerable day at work until a pre-order for a neat tequila slides across his terminal.

V settles onto his usual bar stool, grinning, and Mateo bites his own tongue.


End file.
